Magnetic
by Ahrk
Summary: Til The End of Time - bit of FaytxAlbel fluff. It all started with a magnet...


It all started with a magnet. 

On the Diplo, in the inner workings of the ship, it's quite normal for parts to be magnetized. Keeps the ship running, if you were to check the holo-prints of the ship in the main database in Maria's quarters.

What Albel the Wicked did not know, however, was that it attracts metal.

Namely, _his whole arm_.

Now, the others, having been used to space travel, knew of the certain magnetic forces near the engine of the ship, and thus, kept their metallic objects, such as knuckle guards and swords, away from its vicinity.

What Albel the Wicked did not know was that it wasn't very far from his, as Cliff put it, 'temporary quarters.'

* * *

**_Clunk._**

Albel could only stare at his hand, pressed against the wall. He had just finished taking a short nap after feeling sick from the motions of the ship. He could stand the beating and dipping of a dragon's flight, but not something large and in constant stable motion, where he knew that just outside, there lay nothing but empty space. It still boggled his mind that there could possibly be anything other than Elicoor II, but here was this universe ready to prove him wrong. When he had awoken, he was hungry, and was headed toward the 'mess hall', as those fools as had called it, when he had suddenly found himself questioning if the ship had it in for him.

His mind drew a blank as to why his arm refused to come away from the side of the hallway. It seemed... _Stuck_. He gave a tug with his shoulder. No good. He put his other hand on his forearm, and pulled. Still no leeway.

He growled low in his throat. 'What the hell is going on...?'

Putting a foot against the evil wall, he tried vainly to pry his hand off with brute strength, but to no avail. He slumped down, his butt ending up against the wall, legs on either side of his trapped arm, his hair trails slithering out across the hallway.

Now what?

* * *

"Anyone seen Albel?" 

Fayt was a tad worried, since he knew Albel had not eaten since the day before. Motion sickness was hell for anyone's stomach, and he knew the general would not eat anything until he was able to keep something down.

Cliff shrugged, "Hell if I know. Last I heard, he was sleeping. Good riddance, though, if it shuts him up during our trip."

Fayt frowned, and excused himself from the table. He didn't feel exactly hungry anymore, not with the ball of worry not resting firmly in his gut. What if Albel couldn't get to the mess hall? What if he was lost, and starved?

He walked quickly out of the cafeteria, the others oblivious to his worries as they ate.

* * *

Albel blew his bangs out of his face, his frown deepening. He couldn't exactly call for help, that was just... Weak. His mind cringed at that word. Him, weak? As if. 

That tall blonde buffoon did this on purpose. He knew it now. He purposely put his quarters here so this wall would trap him. He growled and ran his claws on the wall, leaving small trails of silver from the shavings.

"...Shit."

Footsteps reached his ears, which abruptly stopped as they rounded the corner near his position.

He turned his head, and immediately regretted it.

* * *

'I think Cliff told Albel his room was down here...' 

Fayt had searched everywhere first, just in case the Wicked One was out and about, cured of his sickness.

Only to find Albel was indeed at his room. Or rather, stuck to his room.

He gaped, oblivious to Albel finally seeing him, eyes only trained on the arm stuck against the wall.

Then he laughed.

* * *

Oh shit, now he was laughing. Could it get any worse? 

Albel knew his was blushing, knew it was visible, and his embarrassment was overriding his confidence.

"Will you shut up and help me, maggot!" he bellowed.

Fayt immediately stopped, but couldn't suppress his snickers as he advanced.

"I-I'm sorry, it's just... Oh dear, ahahaa..." Thus, he started up again, tears working to his eyes as he went for another round.

Albel gritted his teeth, wishing desperately that he could strangle the damned idiot.

"Hoo... Okay..." Fayt calmed his breath, finally coming close and examining Albel's metal appendage. "It seems the magnetism from the engine on the other side of the wall is affecting your arm. We just simply have to apply the negative force to cancel out the positive and thus render the attraction useless."

"..." Albel stared.

"...What?"

"...In English this time, maggot."

Fayt puffed out his bangs from his eyes. "I find something that will get your arm unstuck."

"Well, find it then!" Albel growled.

Fayt put his hand on his chin, thinking. And then promptly turned around on one foot and ran from the hallway.

"Wha- hey, don't just leave me here! Damnit!"

The Wicked One was not happy when Fayt returned, a small black box in his hand.

"Where did you go?" The general hissed.

"To get this", was his answer. Fayt put the box against the wall near Albel's arm, and the forces were cancelled out, promptly releasing the metallic weapon against Albel's chest. He vigorously shimmied away from the wall, only trusting the opposite side of the hallway to finally stand back up. Fayt merely watched him, amused.

"Where is that big idiot?"

Fayt blinked. "What?"

"The blonde one! Where is he?"

"Oh Cliff, he should still be in the mess hall..." Fayt trailed off as Albel sprinted towards the staircase leading up to the cafeteria. If things went right, he could eat and murder Cliff at the same time.

Now that Fayt thought about it, Cliff was snickering after he told Albel his quarters were down near the engine. He would be regretting it soon enough.

What surprised him was the dark one's return after a few seconds, firmly grasping his shoulders and giving him a fiery and short kiss. A "thank you" was thrown in there somewhere, before Albel was gone again in a flurry of billowing skirt and trailing hair.

Fayt blushed when his shock wore off. He'd have to save Albel a lot more often. He liked the results.

He could hear Cliff's screams of torment from where he stood.

End!


End file.
